


Friendly Fire

by Fiorenza_a



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorenza_a/pseuds/Fiorenza_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4124142"> Three Times Is Either Enemy Action or Cowley </a>  by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/redfiona/pseuds/redfiona">redfiona</a>, which really should be read first.<br/> </p>
<p>http://archiveofourown.org/works/4124142<br/>Posted with kind permission</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friendly Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Blink and you miss it spoiler for Everest Was Also Conquered

 

 

So that was that; finally all square with the boss. Cowley knew. Knew what he'd always known; that Bodie was queer. Queer as a nine bob note and that, if he was prepared to be respectful of the proprieties, he was also unrepentant.

That only left him with one shoe still to drop; _what did Doyle know?_

What _did_ Doyle know? He'd never let on, amidst all the bantering, the ribaldry, the laddish gamesmanship and off colour jokes, Doyle had kept his own counsel. But Doyle wasn't stupid and he'd once earned his living as a detective, following the bread crumb trails of deceit. How blind to the forest could being this close to the timber really make him?

Bodie glanced left, Doyle was in the passenger seat, trainers on the dash, chin propped on his hand, the elbow below it propped on the seal of the open window, curls blowing in the wind. He was staring out of the car, mesmerised by the passing fields as if he'd never seen their like before.

Bodie studied the untidy sprawl and wondered how Doyle had ever passed parade muster. Would the Doyle he had come to know be recognisable to the men and women with whom he had once served? Was this a new Doyle, risen phoenix-like from the embers of the old? _Did he really know Doyle at all?_

He had his own dark secrets, the man he had been, the things he did not share with Doyle, the smokescreen of tall tales he span to keep his true colours obscured from the light of day. Did Doyle do the same? _Was Doyle the same?_

The thought was an enticing one, the man had his assets. Lithe and loose limbed, a provocative temptation of angles, physical and spiritual. A foil to Bodie’s wit, a challenge to his skills, a brain as agile as his own. _Too agile_ , it snaked back on itself, biting venomously at its own tail, a noose for the man’s soul.

Bodie had no soul, but he had a heart and, like Hereward the Wake, Doyle had navigated its hidden causeways to set up camp at its very centre. For Doyle cared. About him.

“Penny for them, sunshine?’’ he asked the sphinx at his side.

Doyle pulled himself around in his seat to look at him “I was thinking about The Cow, how the old bastard never does anything without a reason.”

“Bit late to let that get to you.”

“I was thinking about the kind of jobs we’ve been getting lately.”

“Yeah?’’ Bodie’s stomach tightened, Doyle was a bright lad all right, it’d taken him all of two seconds to clock the set up at the kennels.

“Yeah, variations on a theme, wouldn’t you say?” Doyle was studying him, scrutinising him, the specimen under the microscope. The monkey on the string. _What did Doyle know?_

“Two women, one bed, you mean?” _Did Doyle know?_  

“Once maybe, twice maybe, but three times? Four? You get the same feeling I do?”

“Cowley trying to tell us something, you mean?’’

“I think you can do better than that, Bodie.”

_He knows, he must know..._

“I think you can do a lot better than that. I went to see him.’’

“Yeah?”

“Had something to tell him.”

Bodie’s mouth was parchment dry, _could Doyle know, could he be the same?_

“Something he already knew.”

“Yeah?’’ _Was he the same?_

“Something you already know.”

Bodie’s heart thudded against his ribcage, his lips dragged dryly over his teeth, his quick, slick tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth. “What do I know?’’

A hand on his knee, sliding against the pile of his cords towards the heat of the reckless fire burning at his groin. The pulse thud of arousal and anticipation. The end of days.

And the angel of the apocalypse calling his sweet siren song beside him “The old bastard never does anything without a reason, you and me sunshine, chalk and cheese, sharing the same mobile sweatbox day after day.”

“He knew’’ Bodie’s voice was a tinder dry rustle of words.

“He knew” Doyle’s was the incendiary heat scorching the summer fields.

“What happens now?’’ he asked because Doyle would know. _He must know._

“Us, we happen now.”

The final piece, the jigsaw whole, the picture complete. _Almost complete._ “What about the old man, what do we tell him?’’

“Where are we going, Bodie?’’

“The coast.”

“Why?’’

“Take your pick, dirty drugs, clean guns, tangible threats, untouchable Russians, the usual.”

A long finger wanding across the eager ache throbbing under his fly, an emphasising of the meaningful echoing of his words, _“The usual.”_

“He knows” _of course he knows, how could the inscrutable old bugger not know?_

“He knows, but we’ll tell him anyway.”

“Yeah” agreed Bodie “We’ll tell him anyway.”

 

END

 


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